


A Harrowing

by ApostateRevolutionary



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I suppose, Light Angst, M/M, Pre-Canon, sort of, tagging is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 11:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4346414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApostateRevolutionary/pseuds/ApostateRevolutionary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders is taken for his Harrowing, where he must go into the Fade and face a demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Harrowing

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the headcanon that [this codex entry](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Codex_entry:_Walking_the_Fade:_A_Harrowing) from DA:I was actually written by Anders, describing his Harrowing.

It was the middle of the night when Anders was harshly woken and all but dragged from his bed. Even in his half-asleep stupor, he knew what was coming. He was of age, and he’d known it would come eventually. The Harrowing. As much as he feared it, the fact that they were taking him meant that, despite all his trouble making, at least he wouldn’t be made Tranquil. Whatever this ritual entailed, even if it meant his death, it must have been preferable to being made a soulless husk. The blonde held on to that thought as the Templars kept him moving, trying to ignore his heart threatening to burst through his ribcage.

After climbing what felt like every damned stair in the entire tower, they finally arrived at a pair of heavy doors that Anders had seen before but never been beyond. This must have been it: the Harrowing Chamber. The Templars opened the doors, and led Anders into a large, circular room with a high ceiling, hints of moonlight coming in from the windows at the top, illuminating the concentric circles on the floor. Even here, it was impossible to see out, as it was anywhere else. There were windows lower as well, but the stained glass let in almost no light. During the day, it might have been a fairly nice place. But at night, it was dark and sinister looking. A group of Templars, including the bastard himself, Greagoir, stood beside First Enchanter Irving. That was an even less comforting sight.

“‘Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.’” Greagoir began, taking a step toward Anders, who was just barely resisting the urge to make a snarky comment. “Thus spoke the prophet Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin.”

Anders rolled his eyes, but stayed quiet, for once, as the Knight-Commander’s speech continued, figuring it’d be over faster if he didn’t interrupt. “Your magic is a gift, but it is also a curse, for demons of the Fade are drawn to you, and seek to use you as a gateway into this world.”

“This is why the Harrowing exists. The ritual sends you into the Fade, and there you will face a demon, armed with only your will.” Irving said, right after Greagoir finished, the speech clearly the same for all apprentices.

“And here I always thought you wanted us to stay _away_ from demons.” Anders replied, covering up his discomfort the usual way.

Irving let out an irate sigh, but it was Greagoir who spoke next. “Know this, apprentice: if you fail, we Templars will perform our duty. You will die. Sarcasm will not save you from the demon’s clutches, nor from our blades.”

Greagoir then gestured to a bowl in the centre of the room, filled to the brim with pure, liquid lyrium, not the potion kind, the glow of it unbelievably bright in the dimly lit room. “This lyrium, the very essence of magic, will be your gateway into the Fade.”

Anders took a few steps forward, curious. He’d never seen so much concentrated lyrium in one place before. And he was expected to touch it? The substance was incredibly dangerous, he knew that, especially to mages. There’d certainly be some ill effects after such a large dose. He wondered how many apprentices hadn’t actually failed, but simply died of lyrium poisoning. A shiver ran down his spine and Anders decided he didn’t want to know.

“The Harrowing is a secret out of necessity, Anders. Every mage must go through this trial by fire. As we succeeded, so will you. If I did not believe that, you would not be here.” Irving said, addressing the blonde more directly now.

 _Yeah, then I’d be nothing but a hollow shell instead._ He thought bitterly. The mage was awake enough to be angry now. _This_ was the test? Throwing unprepared mages into a demon’s waiting arms? It was wrong. Anders knew he’d succeed, he always did, and he was smart, but he was still pissed. This was not right.

“It is time.” Greagoir said, gesturing towards the pool of lyrium again.

Anders nodded, and stepped towards it apprehensively. He was scared, there was no denying that, but he’d be damned if he’d let these fuckers see him shake. As he approached the bowl, he looked behind him at the Templars, who were tenser than when he’d first arrived. The blonde briefly wondered what would happen if he tried to run. Either death or Tranquility, surely. He couldn’t say no, not without risking being stripped of everything that made him _him_. Anders would rather face all the demons the Fade had to offer than that. He tried to remember what Karl had told him, to believe in himself and not to doubt. He had to rely on his will alone to succeed, and fear was the true enemy here.

“Well, here goes nothing.” He whispered as he slowly placed his hand in the glowing pool.

Instant pain raced through him, and he could see the world beginning to whirl and tilt alarmingly as the blue fluid worked its way into him. Agony would have been the appropriate word, but just as the pain became unbearable, he felt himself begin to pitch backwards and everything stopped.

No longer did Anders’ gaze find the bowl of lyrium and the circular room, but a world of smoke and fog instead. The mist was swirling around his ankles, obscuring his feet. Did he even have feet here? Anything could be anything in the Fade, so it wasn’t impossible that he could be standing here without feet. He just had to believe he was, that the ground was there and that every step would find purchase. If he didn’t, the ground wouldn’t be there. The Fade was a world of imagination and will, and those two things were his shield and sword for as long as he was here.

Carefully, but not so much so that there was room for doubt, Anders took a step, and was pleased to find ground beneath whatever he was walking on. The details mattered not; all that mattered was that he did not waver, did not fail. He had to survive this. For himself, for the joy of showing the Templars he was stronger than they thought, and for Karl. So long as he kept those thoughts in his mind, his resolve would remain as strong as steel, and that was the key here.

A strange noise that was almost growl sounded from somewhere behind him, and the mage turned quickly to see a shape approaching through the fog. It was large, and that almost scared him. But no, size did not truly matter in the Fade. The smallest creatures could be even more a risk than the largest, and the largest could be the least mighty of them all. There was no reason to fear. He was strong. He could do this.

As the figure came forth, it became clear to Anders that the demon had chosen the shape of a great cat, the exact kind of which appeared to be none he’d ever encountered. It may have even been nothing but a fabricated species that only existed in the mind of this demon, a mix of many different felines. The blonde assumed this form had been chosen to throw him off guard. His fondness for cats was certainly not something a demon would have trouble figuring out, and this creature was likely attempting to use it against him, figuring he would not wish to harm a cat.

But this wasn’t really a cat, Anders knew that, and that was all he needed to know. He would not fall for such tricks.

“Greetings, little mortal.” The demon said tauntingly as it approached, feline eyes glinting maliciously. “How fortunate am I that they have sent one such as you to be my prey.”

“If you think I’m not going to kill you because you’re a cat, then you’re even stupider than I would’ve guessed a demon to be.” Anders answered, trying to replace even the smallest pockets of fear in his mind with bravado. “I’d use your fur to make a lovely robe if I could.”

The demon made an odd hissing noise, and he couldn’t tell if it was pleased or offended. “Such boldness from the little mortal. You are a delightful prey indeed. Your audacity will only make it so much sweeter when you fail.”

With that, the demon lunged forward, and Anders dove out of the way just in time. The mage stood quickly, firing a bolt of pure spirit magic at the large cat. Unfortunately, it seemed the demon had taken on the litheness of a feline as well, and dodged his strike as it came back for another pounce.

“I will have you, little mortal. And when I do, those Templars outside this realm, do you know what they will do?” It said as it came crashing down, Anders diving out of the way again, just barely managing to evade massive, sharp claws. “Even now, they stand over your body, all of those shining, righteous swords pointed straight at your heart, waiting for you to fail. Because you will fail. You are weak, filled with fear and doubt, and even a momentary slip will be your doom!”

Anders sent another bolt of spirit energy, which the cat easily avoided again. Clearly, that was not a useful tactic. He was also fighting internally, with the demon and himself. The demon was right about one thing, at least. Even a moment’s weakness, the tiniest splinter of fear or doubt would be his end. The demon would feast on his mind, gorging itself, and the Templars would be certain to destroy what little of him that remained. And he knew that the fear was there, waiting to be acknowledged, but he would not indulge it. If he doubted, hesitated for only a moment, it would be over, and he could not let that happen.

“You will stumble, little mortal, and when you do, I will _pounce_.” The demon said, hunching forward, its tail quivering just like a real cat waiting to do just that. “For all your courage and will, you will be mine.”

The cat lunged forward again, running at him at full speed, disturbing the fog with every movement of its great paws. Anders pulled sparks to his fingertips and lowered his stance, getting ready for its approach. When the demon leapt towards him again, Anders jumped to the side, then released a bolt of lightning once the cat was close, its feet off the ground leaving it unable to dodge. The electricity hit home, and the creature howled, collapsing onto its side.

The mage ran forward, not giving the demon a moment to stand, and brought a shroud of ice down upon it. The creature was not frozen solid, it was too powerful for that, but it was heavily wounded. Anders then sent forth another blast of pure arcane energy, throwing all of his remaining mana and will into it. The demon cried out again, before falling silent and then melting into the smoke. For a brief moment, the mage thought he could see its form shift, from a cat to whatever this demon usually looked like, but the swirling mist enveloped what was left of the beast too quickly for Anders to properly make out.

The blonde let out a puff of air, the need for breathe so ingrained in his mind that he didn’t remember that there was no real need to breath in the Fade. He’d won. The fight had taken most of his strength, especially since he hadn’t been rested or prepared, but he’d won. A small smile formed on his lips. The Templars couldn’t touch him now, could never put him to the brand. This test may have been fucked up beyond measure, but he had passed.

Anders was about to start looking for something resembling an exit when his vision started to swim, a rush of dizziness washing over him, followed by him blacking out.

* * *

The blonde awoke slowly, his head pounding and his stomach churning angrily. Oh Maker, he felt worse than death. Anders hadn’t even opened his eyes yet, but everything hurt, and he couldn’t seem to form any thought beyond how miserable he was. Slowly, he began to open his eyes, finding a familiar sight beyond the inside of his eyelids.

“K-Karl?” He asked, his mouth dry and sticky, feeling like it’d been rubbed out with parchment.

“Anders? Oh, thank the Maker you’re alright.” Karl said, relieved, and Anders became aware that the older mage had clasped one of his hands tightly between his own. “You’ve been out for a whole day. I was so worried.”

The blonde was far too out of it to even be shocked by that, though it was certainly a surprise. “Well, you know me, too stubborn to ever let anything serious happen.” He managed a weak grin.

Karl chucked slightly and shook his head. “Glad to see you’re the same as always.”

“It takes more than some cat demon to change me, you know.” Anders tried for a smirk, but even his _lips_ were tired, so he wasn’t sure if he actually pulled it off. “Do you know when I stop feeling like mabari spew?”

“Give it a few days, it passes. The first day is the worst. It’s mostly the lyrium.” Karl answered, glancing around quickly before lowering his voice. “I’m so happy you’re alright, love. When I realized you weren’t there in the morning, I knew what had happened, and I was terrified I’d lose you.”

The blonde smiled weakly at the pet name, one they knew better than to use liberally. “It was mostly because of you that I made it. You told me not to doubt, and I didn’t. That demon was no match for me because of your advice.”

Karl laughed lightly again, unclasping one of his hands from around Anders’ to smooth blonde strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead. “I’m glad to hear it. Now, I’ll grab you some food, okay? Something light, gentle on your stomach. You just stay here and rest.”

Anders doubted he could move even if he wanted to, but food was probably a good idea, he knew that, even if his stomach had mixed feelings about it. “Mmm, that sounds wonderful.”

The newly Harrowed mage smiled at his lover, and Karl smiled back, giving his hand a squeeze before departing to the kitchens. Anders may have passed his Harrowing, this was true, but the ritual itself still made him uneasy. How could the Templars possibly think that was a good idea, forcing unprepared mages to do battle with demons they’d only ever heard about, the only alternatives being death or worse? It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right. Because it was true, without Karl’s advice, words he’d probably be flogged for saying if anyone in power ever found out he’d said them, Anders may not have succeeded, may not have known that even the barest thread of doubt would have killed him.

Later, when Anders had mostly recovered from his experience and the lyrium poisoning, he found himself recalling the experience in his journal, too angry not to talk about it, but unable to do so save with Karl when they were lucky enough to be alone. He described his experience, the cat, its taunts, and the fear he knew would undo him. The blonde paused, tapping the quill against his lips as he thought of how to end the entry right, before it came to him.

_This was my Harrowing. They force this upon all mages and call it good. But it is neither good nor right. It is evil and unjust._


End file.
